Death Comes, For All
by M.E.S109
Summary: An epic recount of Death's exploits during War's one hundred years imprisonment. But what if things had happened differently? What if, the Crowfather hadn't told you the whole story?


**Chapter 1: The Veil**

Broken, jagged hooves thundered over the snowy ground, kicking up the white powder and tossing it about in their wake. The regular sound of hooves beating upon snow was the only sound save for the whistling winds to be heard for miles around.  
Despair snorted, green fumes bursting forth from its nose and rising up into the frigid air to be snatched away by the freezing wind, and Death, his mask betraying no emotion, calmed the beast with a small pat on the neck.  
Not that Despair needed to be calmed, the half decayed horse had seen far worse then this in its millennia long lifespan, not least of which included the slaughtering of an entire race at the hands of its silent master.  
The Dark Fortress rose up before the duo, pointing towards the sky like a giant black, jagged finger. The muted thud of Despair's hooves turned to a loud, clack like sound as he galloped over the stones that marked the beginning of a path, one that led all the way to the Dark Fortress.  
Death dismissed his stead and the horse dived into the ground, disappearing amongst pale green flames and the faint screams of the dying. Death landed on the cold stones and slowly rose to his feet.  
The gates of the fortress lay just over two hundred metres away and the path that led to it was littered with broken masonry and chunks of once beautiful stonework. He picked his way through the minefield of debris that had barred his way on horseback, caring little for the frigid wind that blew against his bare chest and whipped his black hair out behind him like a streamer.  
Fury and rage burned in his heart like a hot coal, melting away the cold and leaving behind nothing but white hot anger. War, his own brother, had been accused of treason. The whole of creation had turned its back on the horseman, on Death's youngest brother, and cared not whether he lived or died.  
Fury and Strife were content to let the Charred Council meter out punishment, to leave the decision of their brothers fate to others. Everyone and everything had turned its back on War, save for Death, and he would be damned before he let his brother go quietly into the abyss.  
Death's claw like fingers curled into fists, his already pale knuckles whitening as he squeezed his fingers into his palms. War was the most honourable of the four, the most honourable of any being in the entire universe and there was no way in heaven or hell that he brought about the End-War.  
Death reached the gates and stood before them, patiently awaiting for them to open. A few moments passed and the wind whistled in the background, tossing about the snowflakes that fell towards the ground and carrying them into the nearby chasm before the gates parted.  
The thin covering of ice that coated the jagged portal cracked and fell away with a sound not unlike breaking glass. The gate separated into two pieces, one piece floating upwards, the other sinking downwards.  
Death walked forwards, into the frozen interior, while the gate clamped shut behind him. The far wall was shattered and so being inside did little to shield Death from the cold. The room itself was covered on a layer of snow and rising from the white blanket were skeletons and ghouls, frozen solid in large blocks of ice, their weapons still sitting within their grasp.  
Somewhere from within the high ceilinged room a crow sounded an alarm call and Death cursed.  
"Crowfather!" He called, his raspy voice sounded from behind his executioners mask "Come out! Let us end this foolish game of hide and seek!"  
He was met with silence. He sighed and trudged forwards, leaving a shallow trench behind him. He shivered and scratched an itch before scaling a wall, his fingers latching onto an aged ledge.  
He pulled himself up and journeyed through several rooms, all of which contained frozen corpses and bones reminiscent of the first room. The blizzard raged relentlessly outside the battered and broken fortress, pouring in through the many openings and wholes in the structures walls.

The door slammed shut behind him and Death's hands strayed towards his scythes. He had just entered what might have once passed for a dining hall after about twenty minutes of walking.  
Broken candle holders hung from the dilapidated walls and an ancient wooden table, its intricate carvings having long since eroded, ran the length of the room. Splintered chairs and rusted cutlery littered the room and six skeletons, which Death believed to be the original guests, stood frozen about the room. But that was about to change.  
The icy prisons cracked and shattered, spraying Death with tiny slivers of ice, releasing the fleshless corpses from their ages old confinement.  
Skulls swivelled towards Death and he unsheathed his scythes, holding them at the ready. The first two skeletons rushed forwards, club and sword raised high, while the other four made their way around the table.  
Death ducked under the club and stepped to the side of the sword that was jabbing towards his midsection. He spun his right scythe and its blade sliced through the bones of the sword wielder.  
The skeleton fell to pieces as it died for the second and final time while Death disposed of the other one in a similar fashion. A scream came from his right and Death glanced towards its source.  
A sword whistled through the air, and Death's legs were in its way. He jumped to his left, flipping through the air and landed on the table. The wood groaned beneath Death's weight and he thrust his foot towards a skeletons head, shattering its skull into a million pieces.  
His foot, still carrying its momentum, was now hovering over midair. The remaining skeletons surrounded Death and he dived forwards, rolling off of the table and landing on the bones that cluttered the floor.  
Bones snapped and crunched beneath his boots as Death parried and avoided lethal blows from swords and clubs. He caught the wooden club in the crook of his left scythe and cut it in half with a vicious upper cut from his right one, slicing through the clubs owner as well.  
Death spun on the spot and leant backwards, a sword breezing past the place were his neck had been a moment ago. He leapt forwards, scissoring his scythes before him and bursting through the remains of the sword wielding skeleton.  
The last skeleton died as Death rammed the blade of his scythe into its skull and down its spine. He sheathed his iconic weapons and surveyed the carnage he had created.  
"I wondered when he would try something like that." He muttered, kicking a skull across the room "Foolish old man."  
He continued on as though nothing had happened. The door at the end of the room cracked and parted for him, allowing him access to high-ceilinged room that was cut in half by a deep ravine.  
Attached to the ceiling hung three, rotten pillars of wood that pointed down into the ravine, the howling wind parting around them. On the far side of the ravine, which sat slightly higher then the other, stood an old man in tattered robes and ancient shackles. A crow squawked and settled on one of the mans hunched shoulders.  
"Crowfather!" Death called, starting forwards.  
"Leave this place!" The decrepit man screamed, madness in his eyes "You are not welcome here!"  
"Don't be a fool," Death replied, confused as to why the Crowfather was acting like this "I seek only advice-"  
"NO!" The Crowfather screamed.  
He curled his fingers, purple magic swirling around the skinny digits, and thrust them towards the roof. Hundreds of crows burst into existence and flew straight towards Death as the ceiling began to rumble and shake. The Crowfather disappeared in a burst of purple colour as Death was engulfed by the murder of crows.  
He grunted as they streamed past him, pecking at his face and chest and lashing out with their talons. He batted their feathered bodies aside and emerged on the other side as the ground shook beneath him.  
He fell to one knee as an icicle slammed into the ground next to him.  
"Oh dammit!" He snarled, his orange eyes narrowing in annoyance.  
He sprinted forwards and leapt towards the first pillar. His fingers dug into its rotten surface and he hauled himself up it in an animalistic way, tearing splinters off of it with every step.  
Shards of ice fell from the ceiling and the second beam of wood shook violently as Death latched onto it. Death shimmied around the decayed wooden beam as the ceiling began to crumble and fall away in increasingly large chunks and threw himself towards the final beam.  
He dug his fingers into it and yelled in surprise as the ice around its base cracked and shattered. The beam fell down into the ravine as Death ascended it with all the speed and strength he could muster. He reached the top of the beam, pulled himself onto its flat surface and jumped towards the edge of the ravine.  
His boots slammed into the rocky surface that lay beyond the lip of the ravine and rolled to avoid a falling stalactite of ice that would have impaled him and ended his quest then and there.  
He got to his feet and brushed flakes of snow from his body as the room settled and became quiet. Death's breathing slowed, as did his heartbeat and his eyes narrowed as he spotted a black crow sitting atop a small statue next to a flimsy looking archway.  
"You," Death began in his sarcastic raspy voice, walking towards the crow "nearly got me killed."  
The crow's beak opened to squawk but was cut short as Death's scythe sliced through its body. The two feathered halves fell into the snow, leaking dark red blood and Death ducked beneath the archway, casting a suspicious glance upwards as he passed.  
He emerged onto a giant metal platform with a lever situated at its far end. Death pulled the lever and activated the lift. The screeching sound of metal on metal sounded from beneath the platform as some ancient mechanism activated and the chains on either side of the platform began to move.  
The platform rose upwards and Death shifted his weight restlessly. The lift shuddered to a stop as it reached the top of the fortress and Death walked towards the giant stone doors that now barred his way.  
Twin arms materialised before him and pushed the doors open, allowing Death access to the top of the fortress. He strolled forwards, into a bubble of still air, and finally confronted the Crowfather.


End file.
